


Our Love is God

by wafflesandpancakes



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Non-Famous, Alternate Universe - Religious, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Catholic Guilt, Catholicism, Church Blowjob, Church Sex, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Pierre is the worst monk ever, Religion, Religious Conflict, Religious Guilt, well more like
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-13
Updated: 2019-12-13
Packaged: 2021-03-12 06:01:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21784084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wafflesandpancakes/pseuds/wafflesandpancakes
Summary: It took him a while to gather the courage to look up at Pierre, but once he did, his thoughts were flooded with so many things to say, so many words to spill out from his mouth, but only one sentence left his lips. "Forgive, Pierre, but I have sinned..."oranother religious-themed story which no one asked for
Relationships: Pierre Gasly/Charles Leclerc
Comments: 6
Kudos: 48





	Our Love is God

**Author's Note:**

> I have nothing against the church, and this is a work of fiction, nothing of this is even remotely true. I hope you enjoy!
> 
> title from "heathers - the musical"

Coldness. Wet tiles. A harsh wind blowing through the room as the door was pushed open. Charles did not even bother to look up. His eyes were solemnly focused on the small cross in his hands, his lips forming silent words of prayers long forgotten. He had managed to forget everything about his surroundings, his mind focused on a single task: praying. Praying the whole day through, kneeling on the ground, slightly bent over. His back hurt like hell, but it did not matter to him, the trance taking every last bit of pain away.

They, his family and he, had decided to spend the holidays in the french countryside, somewhere in nowhere, nothing more than a few small towns scattered around and a monastery in the middle, connecting the towns. He had found himself kneeling and praying there more regularly than he would have liked, pushing his family away, but it felt as if he needed to. It lifted the weight of the guilt from his shoulders, at least for the rest of the day. Whenever he left the monastery, his body felt lighter, it was easier to walk. It was so much easier to look his mother, his siblings, his whole family, into the eyes.

"Monsieur Leclerc, it is late. You should go home now, your family must be missing you already"

Charles turned around and smiled slightly, looking into the face of an old monk. Was it already that late? A short glance outside the window told him that the sun was about to set, which meant he would be home long after the world around him had turned dark. He feared his family's reaction, the questions they would ask, the jokes his brothers would make.

"May I... May I stay here for the night? I will inform my mother, but... Please."

He must have sounded desperate enough for the monk to give in with a simple not, gesturing to come closer.

"You may continue praying after dinner, but please, eat with us. You look like you need it"

Dinner was consumed in silence, every monk focused on their food and their own thoughts. It felt good, the silent form of community, the calmness of the atmosphere. It made this feel like the feeling of a home that he so desperately had been longing after. After Dinner, Charles was guided to a younger monk, being told that "he will show you your room for the night". A single look at the man - merely a boy, maybe as old as himself - made his heart flutter and reminded him why he had been praying so much.

"I'm Pierre, to your service. And God's." Pierre gave him a short grin before turning around and leading him to his room. "We're going to share a room if it's okay for you."

Charles simply nodded, still stunned by the beauty of his companion, lulled in by those gentle eyes and the big grin.

"And I will borrow you some of my clothes for the night. You should be about my size."

Again, a single nod from Charles, before he felt his cheeks burn and turned his head away. This was wrong, this was not supposed to happen. This was a sin. _Pierre_ was a sin.

"I... I will join you soon but... I have something to do" and with that, he left the room, leaving a confused Pierre behind

* * *

Coldness. Wet tiles. All over again. It felt bad, it felt wrong, but at the same time so good and right. He was damned, he was a pervert, and he should not have thought about Pierre the way he had. He should not have thought about kissing him, burying his hands in his hair and exploring whatever was beneath his robes. Sink onto his knees and beg for forgiveness, for his sins to be abolished before committing even more sins. It should not cloud his mind, it should not make him stutter while reciting the well-known lines. A soft sigh escaped his lips and he shook his head, trying to sort his thoughts. He started again, got further than before, but still messed it up somewhere before even finishing half of it. His palms were sweaty, and the cross was about to slip out of his hands multiple times.

"Charles, there you are."

Pierre's voice threw him out of his prayers, but he didn't dare to look at him. He heard how he came closer, standing next to him, _facing him_.

"I looked everywhere for you."

It took him a while to gather the courage to look up at Pierre, but once he did, his thoughts were flooded with so many things to say, so many words to spill out from his mouth, but only one sentence left his lips.

"Forgive, Pierre, but I have sinned..."

He was met with a gentle smile on his lips, a warm expression, as warm as the sun on an autumn day, warming him from the inside out.

"What sins did you commit, Charles, that are so bad that you have to pray the whole day?"

"My existence is a sin. My heart does not belong to women, and I looked at you the same way I looked at other men. I... I lusted after you, father."

It was easier for him to pretend that Pierre was someone else, not Pierre, not someone his age. A nameless, faceless person who didn't know him. Someone he could confess to. Someone who did not judge him.

"I believe that God created us in his image, Charles. And if he decided to let your heart yearn for men, then it has to be a reason for why."

Their eyes met, and Charles let out a quiet sob as Pierre reached out to touch his cheek, cupping his face with one hand and letting his fingers wander over his jawline.

"I have to tell you a secret: My heart yearns for men, too. And I was in the same situation as you were. Here, where no one knows me, I finally found a home. I can serve God, and I know that he does not care about who I love. Because God loves all his children."

Pierre's thumb brushed over his lips, and Charles' breath hiccuped, his eyes blown wide and his pants uncomfortably tight.

"God will always love you, Charles. Don't you ever forget that."

They kept looking at each other in silence, Pierre's finger still tracing the outlines of his lips, and a sigh escaped the monk as Charles parted his lips, letting his thumb glide into his mouth. It felt relaxing, it took his mind off of things, and he let out a strangled moan as Pierre buried his free hand in his hair, pulling on some strands. Charles kept looking into the other's eyes as his hands started to undo his robes, pushing them aside to free his cock. Pierre grinned and removed his thumb, and Charles took the opportunity to dart forwards and slowly lick over the tip. Once his lips were stretched around it, his thoughts ended, his mind was empty, the voices of doubt and guilt gone. Because this, this was heaven. Pierre, his hands in his hair, guiding him up and down, moaning his name quietly, while the echo sent shivers down his spine. He truly was in heaven, his own, personal heaven.

"C-Charles..."

Pierre's moan echoed, too, and it let Charles continue, pushing himself further down. He gagged slightly, tears starting to form in the corners of his eyes, but he held still, breathing harshly through his nose. Pierre's fingernails were digging into his scalp, his hands held him in place as the monk slowly started to move. He was using Charles' mouth as if it was a toy, moving back and forth, quietly cursing while not being able to keep his eyes from the man in front of him. It did not take long for him to finish with a short-cut scream, broken by his own hand pressed against his mouth, teeth biting into the soft skin. He let Charles pull away shortly afterwards, his eyes focused on his lips, swallowing hard as he saw how he cleaned his lips with his tongue, giving him a shy smile once he was done.

"Come, we need to go to bed..." Pierre held out a hand, pulling him onto his feet, before leaning in closer. "I want to show you how you kneel properly."

Charles bit his lip hard and took his hand as they walked back to the room. He knew that it was wrong, they were in a monastery and they were about to share the bed, all under the eyes of Jesus looking down on them from the cross. But maybe Pierre was right, maybe this was okay. Maybe they were not dirty, perverts, sinners. Maybe God loved him. And maybe he deserved his love.


End file.
